


Green Only

by larryscape



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, BBC Radio 1, Concerts, Fame, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hair Salon, Humor, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Marijuana, No Smut, Radio, Tomlinshaw - Freeform, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:51:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryscape/pseuds/larryscape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are you doing?" Zayn answered, lifting a hand toward Louis before dropping it at his side. "We hate this guy."</p>
<p>Lowering his gaze to the ground, Louis made an impatient noise. "Yeah," he started, tapping his toes together. "But like, he's a celebrity...kind of. Like, I know he's loud and obnoxious, but he probably has a really good dealer." Louis looked Zayn in the eye, lower lip trembling slightly. "He probably has green only..."</p>
<p>Zayn raised an eyebrow. </p>
<p>"...nig."</p>
<p>aka</p>
<p>Zayn and Louis work in Greg’s hair salon but take the day off to go to Radio 1’s Big Weekend, where they meet Nick, who really wants Louis’ ass. Zayn is a little bothered by it, but he's not the one who turns green with envy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindsaylohan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsaylohan/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to one of the best people I know. I had this idea last month, and though you really wanted me to write it, I hardly had an actual intention to at the time. But here we are; I started writing a few weeks back and realized that it was flowing incredibly well, and I ended up having a lot of fun with this. I spent my days at the library writing, and one time I accidentally deleted the entire thing, to which I responded by speeding home, yelling at my dad, and eventually getting it back. Needless to say, even though you might be disappointed by some parts, I had a hell of a time making this birthday present for you, Yelena.

"This one's all you."

"But Louis-"

"But nothing. I just did four perms in a row, while you scrubbed and lathered a fucking Italian supermodel named Paulo. Not happening, bro."

Louis shook his head for emphasis, a smirk tugging at his lips as Zayn's eyes deadened in defeat. Louis always won.

"Don't get too down, babe. Older birds have some great stories to tell," Louis said, playfully stroking a hand down his best friend's beard. “Some stories even last hours after the appointment’s over. Amazing, right?”

Zayn tilted his head upward, his chin pointed at Louis’ nose as he released a strained groan.

"But be careful,” Louis added, raising a finger in the air. “Some of 'em like to get a little handsy." He squeezed a handful of Zayn’s bony ass before flashing a cheesy grin and walking away.  

Zayn blew a raspberry as Louis slunk off to the front desk by the salon door. He always walked with swaying hips, his black skinny jeans stretching and bending with each careful movement of his curves. Zayn couldn't help but scoff. Even in a room of old ladies, eight year old girls, and his best friend, Louis needed all eyes on him at all times.

"Hey Greg," Louis purred, leaning over the counter with his chin resting over his laced fingers.

With a pen behind his ear and his tongue between his lips, Louis' boss eyed the smaller boy sternly. "No," he said before typing something on his iPad.

Louis knitted his eyebrows. "What? You don't even know what I was gonna say." He clutched the black fabric of his t-shirt over his chest. "Am I not allowed to converse with my boss during my shift? Is it such a crime that I wanted to come say hey and maybe ask how my favorite person at work was doing?-"

Zayn coughed loudly from the opposite end of the salon, where an old woman's curls were swallowing his hands.

"Not now, Zayn."

Greg pushed his iPad to the corner of his desk and laced his own fingers together, mimicking Louis. "Have you quite finished?" he asked, tilting his head impatiently. "'Cause I'm kind of in the middle of something, you know."

Louis eyed the ceiling and sighed. "Well...there is something I needed to ask you, I guess." He began batting his eyelashes, to which Greg responded with a dry eye roll. "You see, I kind of had this thing I need to go to on Friday. It's really important, but I seem to be working 'til seven that day."

Fisting his hands together beneath his chin, Greg stared at Louis with narrowed eyes.

"It's gotta be a mistake right?" Louis added, voice rising in pitch. "Right?" he practically squeaked, adding a nervous chuckle.

Greg shook his head, breath escaping his lips roughly as he eyed the surface of his desk. "Louis, you can't just-"

"I'll sweep the floors. I'll wipe the mirrors. I'll walk your dog. I'll-"

"Louis, you already do all of those things."

Louis released a long breath through his nose, glaring at Greg all the way through. "Sparky is doing fantastic by the way," he said, demeanor softening. "He's become real friendly with the other dogs and hasn't shit in front of me in weeks."

Greg perked up. "Oh really? Well, that's great to hear!"

Louis slammed his hands over the table. "Okay, let's not change the subject," he growled. He directed his index finger at Greg while smacking his lips together. "I need the day off on Friday. Can you do that for me?"

Somewhere in the corner of the salon, Zayn was observing the front desk with his fingernails between his teeth.

"I don't know," Greg said, pain threaded into his tone and facial expression. "You do this like... every week, Louis. You're gonna have to find someone to cover your shift."

Instantly reaching for the phone in his back pocket, Louis used his other hand to hold up a finger. "That I've got covered," he said through a slightly manic giggle.

Greg wiped both palms over his face as Louis scrolled through his contacts.

"Heeeeey Niall!" he sang, spiking his tone with artificial enthusiasm. "Guess what?...... Uh-huh, you guessed right, you genius you...... Yeah...... Friday....... You have a liver transplant you need to be at?...... Bullshit, Ni. I know you'll be here....... Atta boy... Yup- Uh huh..... No, Greg doesn't _hate_ you, he just- What's that? ....... You'll be here? Aw, that's great. Love you, man....... Alright..... No, no homo, don't worry....... Okay, bye."

Pocketing his phone, Louis gave a not-so-subtle thumbs up to Zayn, who was nodding politely at a few wallet-sized pictures of strange children.

"Fine," Greg huffed, flopping his hands up and down onto the desk. "You're all set, but any damage that blonde friend of yours causes comes out of your paycheck. Understood?"

Louis had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling like a madman. "Yes, sir," he sing-songed before leaning over and planting a wet kiss on his boss's cheek.

"Get back to work," he said finally, wiping off his cheek and flicking his wrist toward an angry blond girl with wet hair kicking her dangling feet back and forth.

Louis obliged, spinning around on his heels before sauntering off toward the back of the room. He took a quick detour to pass Zayn, offer him a fist bump, and whisper "Your turn" before attending to his customer.

Zayn took a deep breath as he eyed the front desk.

"And that's the story of my night with Frank Sinatra," the old woman croaked, smiling up at the ceiling with her hands folded in her lap.

In his realization that his customer had been talking all this time, Zayn blinked rapidly and quirked an eyebrow down at the lady. "Oh," he said, brushing some hair off her shoulder. "Cool."

From where he stood combing out the young girl's damp hair, Louis threw Zayn a nod.

"Uhm... one second," Zayn said before jogging over to Greg's desk. He leaned over, grinning much like Louis had, feeling all eyes focus in on him and his boss.

"You're good to go, Malik," Greg said, smizing up at the dark-haired boy, who was now raising both eyebrows.

"Uhm... oh?"

Within seconds, Louis had scampered over to Zayn's side. "What the hell?" he spat, flexing his calves to put him on his tip toes. "You give me a hard time, and Zayn is just _good to go?_ I woke Niall up from his siesta for this. His _siesta,_ Greg-"

"Louis. Enough."

"He didn't even bat an eyelash," Louis whined, folding his arms over the counter.

Zayn snorted, smirking down at his friend as he shook his head slowly.

Greg gave a dry chuckle, looking between the two men before him. "Well if you're gonna make this a matter of eyelashes..." he began, eyes lingering over Zayn. "Then I believe you've dug your own grave."

His jaw dropping with a dramatic gasp, Louis crossed his arms over his stomach. "My eyelashes are above the average, you farsighted swine."

Before Louis could continue, he was tickled by the small breeze of Zayn's eyelashes blinking next to his cheek.

"Privileged prick," he said, jolting away before planting his arms on each of Zayn's shoulders. They then proceeded to engage in a battle of butterfly kisses until Greg threatened to put on his all Taylor Swift Spotify playlist.

"Where are you two even going on Friday?" Greg finally asked, surrendering his iPad to the corner of his desk once more. "Another David Beckham hunt?"

Louis raised a palm in the air, shaking his head with shut eyes. "No no no, my friend."

"Much bigger," Zayn added, nodding smugly.

Greg blinked. "Okay."

Exchanging lip-biting grins and slow nods, Zayn and Louis looked at each other before slowly turning to Greg. "We are going to..." Louis began.

And then in unison, gradually getting louder with each syllable:

"To BBC Radio One's Big Weekend!"

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: An adult male duck is called a "drake."**

**~~~**

"Goodbye, Zayn."

"Where you goin'?"

"I'm off to kill myself."

"Oh come on, Lou. It's just a song."

As Pharrell wrapped up his set with the ever-so-popular number "Happy," Louis stood in the front, staring at his hotdog, debating whether to inhale it in one bite or chuck it at Pharrell's hat.

He wound up, only to have his elbow caught by Zayn, who then tugged him toward the exit.

" _Hey,_ " Louis protested, unwillingly following Zayn through the outdoor crowd. "You realize we're giving up our spot, right? We're gonna end up in the back for Coldplay." Zayn froze, allowing Louis to clumsily fall into his back with a high-pitched _oof!_

_"_ Coldplay?" Zayn echoed, nose wrinkled.

Standing up straight and smoothing out his t-shirt, Louis blinked up at his friend. "Tinie Tempah?" he tried again, squinting in the daylight.

Zayn nodded with a scoff before tugging at Louis' elbow once more, bringing them closer to the exit. "We'll be back in time," he hollered over the rumble of fans. "Wanna go explore for a little bit."

Louis huffed. "Okay, Dora. Well, since this is not my idea nor my desire, I am recruiting you for transportation services."

Zayn turned around to face Louis with a scrunched nose. "Wha-" he began before Louis was jumping up onto his back and wrapping his legs around his waist. "Oh. Okay."

"Onward, noble steed," Louis shouted, throwing a fist in the air while his other hand tugged on a clump of Zayn's quiff.

After reaching a hand behind him to smack at Louis' ass, Zayn muttered a soft "Yes, Princess," and carried on through the exit.

The outdoor stadium opened up into a grass, carnival-like setup, featuring food stands, smaller stages, and scattered tents. Empty beer cans littered the ground along with plastic necklaces and sleepy spectators who had had a bit too much to drink.

Louis extended his leg toward a trail of Budweiser cans. "Follow," he demanded before kicking his feet against Zayn's thighs. "Must find."

Zayn kept walking in a straight line, ignoring the line of cans that veered off onto a perpendicular trail. He soon, however, could not move at all, as Louis' hands had found their way around his throat.

"Did you just say no to me?" Louis growled into his ear, breath tickling his neck.

"Fuck off," Zayn said through a shallow giggle, practically throwing Louis off his back and gathering him in a headlock.

Louis squeaked, arms flailing into Zayn's rib cage. "How very dare you," he said through breathy cackles. "You insubordinate little-"

"I have weed."

Louis let himself go limp in Zayn's arm. "Oh."

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: The first man to survive going over Niagara Falls later died from slipping on an orange peel.**

**~~~**

"My feet are crying. Can I please get on your back again?" Louis droned, slouching into Zayn's side as they passed a clan of drag queens.

Zayn groaned with his head tilted back. "I said no, Lou. I already have scoliosis. Don't be inconsiderate."

Growling openly, Louis kicked an empty beer can on the ground. "But Zayn-"

"Listen, if you're this fed up with walking, I can rent a baby stroller from the tent at the entrance," Zayn jested, digging his fingers into Louis' shoulder. "They were bloody expensive though."

Louis tapped a finger against his lips and hummed consideringly.

"I was kidding, you lazy prick."

"Well, it's not like we're gonna find a place to light up any time soon at the rate we're going," Louis huffed. He slapped a hand against the back of his neck to mop up a drop of sweat and shook it off with a disgusted whine. "The po po is everywhere."

Zayn spit air through his teeth while giving Louis a judgemental smirk. "Did you just say the po po?" he asked, eyes squinted.

"Yeah?" Louis answered. "The po po be tryna separate me and my girl Mary J."

Zayn blinked, scoffed, and shook his head slowly.

Louis widened his eyes, retracting subtly. "What?"

Zayn sighed. "You're lucky you have a great arse."

Distracted by the compliment, Louis spun around like a dog chasing its tail. He smiled down at his bum and proceeded to thank Zayn with caress of the cheek.

"Anyway," Zayn said, starting to walk again. "Let's just look in one of these tents, yeah? I'm sure one of 'em is empty."

Louis shrugged, cuddling into Zayn's side. "And if not, 'm sure the people in it are already passing the bong around, and we can join the party," he chuckled.

Zayn gave a nod of approval.

"And I can take a video and be all _smoke screen baby!_ " Louis added.

He looked up at Zayn, expecting another signal of approval. But instead, Zayn was shaking his head once more. "I think it's best if you don't speak," he said while petting Louis' hair.

Louis gasped. "I'm _charming_ , you bitch," he defended before spinning out of Zayn's grasp to knee him in the thigh.

Before he could do any more damage, Zayn spotted a white tent with a BBC Radio 1 Logo printed on its door flaps. It looked like it could fit a decent amount of people, definitely not much of a camping tent but more of a carnival tent.

Louis stopped. "Let's go in," he said, already veering off the grass path. He tugged Zayn along by the wrist, causing the other boy to nearly topple over.

"Be quiet," Zayn warned while planting a warning hand over Louis' shoulder. "In case there's something important going on in here, we don't wanna draw attention, you know?"

Throwing Zayn a look, Louis scrunched up his nose and swatted his friend's hand away from his shoulder. "Please, it's probably just people having a good time," he argued, placing both hands at the tent's entrance. "Let's not be knobs about it."

Zayn rolled his eyes but soon eased into a submissive nod. "Sure sure. Whatever you say," he sang, waving a hand to usher Louis through the entrance.

The next thing Louis did (and would soon come to regret) was burst through the leather flaps, raise his arms in the air, and sing at the top of his lungs " _Chicken in Chili! Pew pew pew, pew pew pew pew pew pew!_ "

Within seconds he was faced with two shoulder rig studio cameras, an entire film crew, a radio host, and Matty Healy.

The entire tent fell silent. Everyone just stood with their mouths hanging open, no words coming out until Zayn raised a hand to his head and yelled " _Louehyouidiot!_ "

Ignoring the part of him that wanted to pass out, Louis slowly blinked back to life and began muttering out apologies. "I had no idea," he wheezed, waving both hands in the air. "I- I don't even know why-"

"Chicken in Chili, eh?" the radio host finally said. He had one eyebrow raised and a finger tapping against his temple.

Louis exhaled, his lips forming a lower case o.

"Food stands are that way, sweetheart," the man finished with an amused chuckle. His voice had a musical tone that halfway put Louis at ease and halfway made him that much more humiliated. His dark hair stood tall but drooped at the tips, giving him a sort of dippy quiff. After scanning the rest of his face - pale skin, droopy eyes, faint scruff - Louis realized he had not only heard that voice before, but he had also seen this face before.

"Nick Grimshaw?" he half-whispered, earning a delighted squeal from the older man.

"Why yes," he answered, daintily placing his fingers over his blue button up t-shirt. It was then that Louis noticed his fingernails were painted a soft coral, which was... okay. (Louis once dated a guy who refused to get fingered unless Louis had baby blue nail polish on, so he couldn't really judge.)

The awkward thing about Zayn and Louis' little encounter (other than the whole pew pew pew thing) was that Nick Grimshaw wasn't exactly their favorite radio host. Though they listened to him at work almost every morning, it was mainly to mock his gay-for-pay, Perez Hilton-like persona.

While Louis and Zayn stared at Nick, both unsure of how they felt about their "celebrity" encounter, a loud and throaty grumble came from none of the three parties.

"I'm Matty Healy," the voice said, face straight as he swiped his long hair behind his ear. "I mean... obviously," he added through a low chuckle.

Zayn pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Sorry, who?" he said, earning a snort from both Louis and Nick.

Soon, as Matty looked completely unimpressed, the entire crew joined in with a round of howls. Eventually, the kid got up and flipped everyone off, shouting "I don't need to take this. I'm Matty Healy for fuck's sake!" and storming out.

Zayn gathered himself, having been jostled out of Matty's way. "Oh," he said before smoothing out his shirt.

"He seems nice," Louis sang through a high-pitched giggle. He scanned the room, eating up the remaining amused expressions upon each of its occupants. "Sorry we fucked up your interview though," he added, his gaze landing on Nick.

The man gave a noncommittal "Eh," and a wave of his hand. "I was getting bored of 'im anyway. He just kept sayin' that the _music writes him..._ gross. Needless to say, I think 'm gonna stay here and hit the Mary J instead of watching him perform next."

Louis' eyes lit up much like the joint he saw in his near future. He started to make a delighted gasping noise before Zayn yanked his t-shirt from behind his back. "What?" he asked, glaring at Zayn defensively.

Before Zayn could do anything, Nick was clearing his throat, while simultaneously shooing off his camera crew. "Would you lads like to join me?" he asked before standing up and hopping off his miniature stage.

Louis opened his mouth right away, but Zayn's loud " _Uhm_ ," prevented him from getting out any more than a squeak. "Can we have a moment?" Zayn continued through a forced grin.

Nick squinted, polished fingers laced in his lap. "Uhm... sure?"

And within the next second, Zayn had yanked Louis back outside of the tent, earning a squawk from the older boy.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked, steadying himself on Zayn's forearm.

"What are _you_ doing?" Zayn answered, lifting a hand toward Louis before dropping it at his side. "We hate this guy."

Lowering his gaze to the ground, Louis made an impatient noise. "Yeah," he started, tapping his toes together. "But like, he's a celebrity...kind of. Like, I know he's loud and obnoxious, but he probably has a really good dealer." Louis looked Zayn in the eye, lower lip trembling slightly. "He probably has green only..."

Zayn raised an eyebrow.

"...nig."

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: Snails can sleep for a full 3 years without eating.**

**~~~**

One hit off a joint later, and Louis claimed to have been "seeing stars." Though Zayn would have normally given him shit, he himself had smoked an entire joint on his own and was in no condition to make judgments.

"How you boys feelin'?" Nick said, a thin coat of laughter lining his voice. He held the joint he'd been sharing with Louis between his fingertips as he scanned each of the boys for feedback. "Good stuff, eh?"

Zayn nodded, big and slow until he was staring up at the ceiling. He blinked, watching as the solid white changed hues.

Meanwhile, Nick was scooting closer to Louis, knees bent and elbows against the grass. "What'd you say your name was again?" he asked before placing the joint between Louis' lips.

Louis batted his hand away, careful to snatch the joint with his other hand. "Don't be weird," he muttered before taking a puff. "And it's Louis."

His eyes tinted pink, Zayn shifted his body to stare at Nick. "Don't be weird, bro," he slurred while shaking his head slowly.

"I'm not weird at all, _Louis_ ," Nick defended, lulling his head back to face the ceiling. "If anything, you're the weird one. What does chicken and chilli even mean?" he asked through a spitting trill of laughter.

After wiping a hand down his face, Louis gave a dramatic groan. "Not chicken _and_ chilli," he said before turning to share a scoff with Zayn. "Chicken _in_ Chili... like the country." He shrugged at Nick. "Looks like someone's not on my level."

Nick scrunched his nose. "Chi- We're in Glasgow."

After shaking his head up at the ceiling, eyes halfway closed, Louis spat through his teeth. "Novice."

Before the floppy-quiffed radio host could form a retaliation, Zayn was bursting out in a fit of laughter. He lay on his back, hands folded over his stomach, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I just remembered something," he said, vowels dragged out by intoxication.

"That you're late for your facial, pretty boy?" Nick interjected, hand clenching at his chest as he let out a mixture of giggles and coughs.

Zayn and Louis turned to him slowly, both sets of eyes narrowed. Without saying a word, Zayn lowered his gaze to Nick's nail polish and back up to him.

"Oh, come on," Nick said, still chuckling softly. "I only wanna have a laugh, yeah? What's that One Direction line about breaking the table again?"

Louis took another puff of his joint and exhaled straight into Nick's face. "What in fuck's name is a Wonder Erection?... Is that some type of steroid?"

"I think you can get 'em at CVS," Zayn chimed in.

"Really," Louis purred, scratching his scruff with squinted eyes. "Might have to make a pit stop on the way home then."

This conversation went on for the remainder of The 1975's setlist.

"Anyway." Zayn sat up before stretching out his arms over his head. "Best be goin', yeah? Wanna grab some nachos before the next performance on the main stage."

Louis looked up at him, blinked twice, and sat up too. "Here," he said before shoving the joint in Nick's face. "Uhm... thanks."

Zayn and Louis stood up clumsily, using each other to balance. "Yeah thanks. This was cool," Zayn added, giving Nick a simple nod.

But Nick gave nothing back. Instead, his droopy eyes locked on Louis' ass. "Gone so soon?" he slurred, trailing his gaze up the smaller boy's spine. "Thought we were just getting started."

Louis spun around to face Nick, more so to keep his bum out of the man's wandering view. "Listen," he began, digging his fingers into his hip. "I don't know what freaky shit you _celebrities_ get up to at events like this, but Zayn and I work in a hair salon. We-"

"Ooh, which one?" Nick interrupted, eyes wide with a hint of a smile.

Louis squinted while letting his hand fall to his side. "Gregory James," he said, pitch rising as if it were a question.

Nick nodded slowly. "Ah," he said before taking one more hit off the joint.

"Anyway. We're gonna leave," Louis said. Zayn nodded with pursed lips before clapping Louis on the back. "Thanks again," the smaller boy added. He spun around in a stiff series of motions, and Zayn followed.

They were halfway out the door when Nick shout out a crackly "Sorry by the way."

Louis and Zayn froze before whipping their heads over their shoulders.

"I didn't mean to make things awkward. Usually the couples I befriend are always down for a threeway," he said, earning a scrunched nose from Louis and a wide-eyed stare from Zayn. "But I get not wanting to share _that_ ," he continued, looking at Zayn but gesturing to Louis.

With a disgusted _blech_ and a flipping of the bird, Louis shoved past Zayn to exit the tent.

Zayn followed after rolling his eyes at Nick, who sat laughing, puffs of smoke shooting out with every beat.

"I need a shower," Louis muttered, already hastening down the grass walkway. He wiped a hand across the back of his neck. "I honestly feel like I just bathed in a pool of vomit."

Zayn lept to his side, finding it difficult to keep up. "Okay," he said before throwing an arm around his friend's shoulder. "But we are getting nachos first, right?"

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: “Jesus” said backwards sounds like “sausage.”**

**~~~**

After realizing that the Tinie Tempah performing that night was actually Tiny Temper, a dwarf techno artist with an anger management problem, Louis and Zayn decided to head home.

"You always take care of me," Louis half-whispered from where he sat in the passenger's seat of Zayn's old Volvo. With marijuana still coursing through him, Louis found his head against the window and knees falling to each side.

Zayn sat with his chair reclined at a forty five degree angle, arms folded in his lap. He answered Louis with a single hum, eyes just barely open.

"You're the only one who really cares about me," he continued, words blending together, making Zayn giggle up at the ceiling.

"You're so baked," the dark-haired boy laughed. With one hand rubbing over his full stomach, Zayn used the other to poke at Louis' cheek.

He burst out in a fit of cackles, and Zayn followed suit.

After catching his breath in a series of high-pitched wheezes, Louis gathered Zayn's hand in both of his. "But reeeally," he whined through his settling laughter.

Zayn turned to face Louis head on, showing him his undivided attention.

"You're my best guy, Zayn," Louis finished, tone somehow sober in the midst of his undeniable high. "You're my favorite."

And after breaking out into the chorus of Justin Bieber's "Favorite Girl," Louis let his head fall back against the window and fell asleep.

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: Semen contains zinc and calcium, both of which are proven to prevent tooth decay.**

**~~~**

"Mondays are shit," Louis grumbled, stomping past the row of salon chairs to fetch a new bottle of shampoo.

"I beg your pardon," gasped an old woman whose head was tucked beneath a hair drier.

Louis froze, eyeing the woman's wrinkly hand clutching at her pearls. "Oh," he said before pressing his lips together. "I said... Mum Day's armpit. You know, like... on Mother's Day when your armpit's all uh..."

The lady tilted her head down, glasses falling lower down her nose.

"Eh, fuck it. Mondays are shit."

Returning the woman's stink eye, Louis continued walking toward the back of the room. He passed Zayn, who gave him a silent nod, and eventually reached the multicolored bottles of hair product decorating the back wall.

As Louis scanned the shelves, hand stroking his thickening scruff, Ed Sheeran's "Sing" came to an end on the salon's loudspeaker.

"And that was Ed Sheeran with a single off his latest album. I'm Matt Fincham filling in for Nick this morning on BBC Radio One."

Louis knocked an entire row of Herbal Essences off the shelf. " _Shit. Fuck._ "

"You good?" Zayn called from his domain across the room.

Louis nodded, waving a vicious hand in his friend's direction. "Yeah yeah, fuck off."

"He just said the guy's name. It's not even him." Zayn said through a dry chuckle. "Relax, yeah?"

Louis rolled his eyes at Zayn before scanning the entire salon. Of course, everyone's eyes were on him. But luckily, it was only eight in the morning, and there were only two customers.

Choosing to ignore everyone completely, Louis took a step further into the corner of the salon and leaned into the speaker mounted on the wall.

"Threw a bit of a diva fit, didn't he," Matt said, laughing to someone off air. "Must have really wanted that color change, and our people wouldn't do it."

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his toes and pressing his hand against the wall. "Color change?" he whispered to himself. "What the fuck is tha-"

"Hello hello!" a voice echoed from the opposite end of the salon. "Sorry I'm late."

Louis heard Zayn curse before he turned around himself, though the voice alone was enough to reveal who had walked through the door.

"Hey, sweetheart," the man greeted, tossing a hand in the air to give Louis a finger-fluttering wave.

Louis snapped his gaping mouth shut with a click of his teeth. "Nick," he stated simply, inching away from the speaker. "What are you doing here?" He shook his head, incredulous.

Nick paused, head tilted to the side before beaming openly. "Well, by the sound of Fincham's voice coming from that speaker, it sounds like you already know."

"I don't actually," Louis said before taking another step away from the speaker and over a pile of shampoo bottles.

"Oh, come off it. I was listening in the car," Nick said, crossing his arms. "I know Finchy mentioned my color change." He waved his hands around his hair, and Louis' jaw dropped once more.

"Ooooh, _color_ change," he echoed, scratching at his scalp.

Nick snorted. "Yes, Einstein. What did you think that meant?"

Louis shook his head. He shrugged at Zayn before looking back at Nick. "I don't know, like... a reverse Michael Jackson type of thing?"

Zayn slapped a palm to his forehead. "Bro."

Feeling everyone's stare heat up against his skin, Louis decided to diminish the gap between him and Nick, making their conversation more private. He whispered a soft "One sec" to his client as he walked to the front desk, where Greg sat uncomfortably.

"You know who this is?" Louis said. He bit his lip while flinching his elbow in Nick's direction.  

Greg pressed his palms together and gave Louis a curious look. "Yes?" he said, adding a trace of laughter. "Celebrities come in here all the time, Louis. You met David Beckham."

Louis made a reflexive noise of distress and slapped a hand to his head.

Zayn winced. "Actually, that was just me," he chimed in with a raised index finger. "Louis faked sick that day."

"And thank you all for reminding me... really," Louis said before wiping a single tear trickling down his cheek. "But that's not even the issue at hand. The issue at hand is _why the fuck are you in my salon?_ " he finished, gesturing wildly at the smirking Nick Grimshaw standing before him.

Greg cleared his throat. "Well, uhm, actually it's my salon-"

"Why are you in my salon?" Louis repeated, the words pouring out of him in a string of rapid, staccato beats.

Nick shrugged. "I wanted to dye my hair pink," he stated simply.

Louis huffed, long and crackly. "Okay, well then why, of all places, have y- ...wait _pink?_ "

Nick nodded.

"That's insane," Louis said at the same time Zayn said "That's hilarious."

Nick's smirk collapsed and his eyes deadened for a brief moment before performing a textbook eye roll.

"Well, one of you is gonna have to do it," Greg said, lacing his fingers together and tilting his head. "So who's it gonna be?"

Louis gaped at Greg before shifting his gaze toward Zayn. "Not it," he chirped while placing a finger to his nose. "And I'm gonna take my break after this customer." He then proceeded to point at Zayn, force a laugh, and walk back to his original client.

Greg, Nick, and Zayn all looked at one another and shared a dragged-out "Okay...?" in unison.

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: Men who grow beards easily and earlier in life are more likely to go bald."**

**~~~**

"So what is the deal with the little one?" Nick asked Zayn as he allowed himself to be spun around in the black leather chair.

Zayn shrugged his shoulders as his hands worked on laying out strips of foil in Nick's hair. "I dunno," he sang, sounding partially indifferent and partially defensive. "What do you mean?"

Nick pursed his lips at his reflection. "Like why is he so... jumpy?" he elaborated.

With a grinless snort, Zayn walked over toward the mirror to grab a bottle of bleach solution he'd just mixed. "I mean, you did sort of track us down and barge in here unannounced," he said, flipping the plastic bottle open with his thumb. He squeezed the bleach out in a plastic tray on a square, wooden table stood next to Nick's chair.

"I tracked _him_ down, yes," Nick muttered down at his laced fingers.

Zayn froze and shook his head. "Okay?"

"No offense, I mean- you're rather fit as well, but Louis is just..."

"I know," Zayn said dryly. He grabbed a small paint brush from his smock and began harshly stroking it across the plastic tray, saturating it with bleach.

Nick hummed, eyes still locked on his own reflection. "And I don't mean to be creepy, you know. I just..."

Zayn shook off the excess bleach onto the tray, while tapping - or more like beating - the brush against it. "You just..." he pushed.

Nick sighed roughly. "I just really want his arse."

Beginning to glide streaks of blue-tinted bleach into the radio host's dark hair, Zayn released a low hum before smacking his lips apart. "Yeah well," he began, eyes narrowed in concentration. "I don't think you're really his type."

Nick raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching away from their originally pursed state. "What do you mean?" he said, voice higher in pitch.

Zayn wrinkled his nose at Nick's sudden vulnerability. "I _mean_..." he began with a scoff. "That Louis has more self-respect than to spread his legs at any sign of fame and fortune... and weed."

(He twisted his mouth in thought at that last point, second guessing himself, but then quickly shook his head.)

"He's better than you," Zayn finished.

Nick took a break from biting his nails to look at Zayn's reflection in the mirror. His eyebrows were furrowed atop his drooping eyes, and the corner of his lips turned down about ten degrees. "Yeah?" was all he said in response.

Zayn looked back, paused with the brush against Nick's hair. His eyes traced from the man's quivering lip to his baggy eyes. They were still glued to Zayn's reflection, awaiting a confirmation.

Then, before Zayn could croak out a single peep, a muffled chorus to Pharrell's "Happy" chirped through Nick's brown leather bag.

"One second," he said, holding up a finger and reaching down to where his bag decorated the floor. He retrieved his phone, groaned at the caller ID, and swiped the screen from left to right. "Hello?"

Zayn set the brush back down in the tray.

"Yes, I am getting my hair done... as we speak," Nick laughed bitterly into the phone. "I don't care- _Finchy,_ listen to me. This will raise a ton of money, alright?"

Squinting, Zayn stuffed his hands in the pockets of his smock before pacing in slow motion behind the chair.

"Who cares about our image?" Nick continued, voice getting louder. "It's a _radio_ show, you idiot."

Zayn spun around to face Greg, who was peeking over his desk. "Someone's angry," he mouthed with a shrug.

"Sorry 'bout that," Nick chirped, to which Zayn instantly whipped back around.

"Oh no, no problem," he assured, voice unnecessarily loud and enthusiastic.

Nick pocketed his phone and folded his hands in his lap once more, thumb-wrestling himself.

"Soooo this is for charity?" Zayn asked, picking up his brush again. He tried to ignore the agitated manner in which Nick was sitting by zoning in on his matted down hair.  

"Yup," the other man responded through a deep exhale. He shot Zayn a half-smile before dropping his gaze back down at his hands.

Zayn nodded with his tongue between his lips as he painted the remainder of Nick's hair with bleach. "Cool," he stated simply, still nodding. "Very cool."

"So about Loui-"

"Really really cool and exciting," Zayn continued, tone dry and jagged. He took a deep breath before loosening his vice grip on the brush until it plopped into the wet tray of bleach. "Looks like you're ready for color."

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: The Platypus was once said to be a myth, such as Bigfoot or The Yeti.**

**~~~**

"Why did I have to move chairs again?" Nick asked as Zayn blow dried his hair. To the darker boy's luck, Greg had stepped out for a lunch break, leaving just him and Nick alone in the salon.

"Uhm," Zayn began, pressing his lips together tightly. "This outlet works better for the hair drier." He looked at the wall, where the mirror would be if there were any mirrors in the back section of the salon. "Yeah, that's it."

Nick gave a single nod. "Ah," to which Zayn responded by fist bumping himself behind Nick's back.

Before Zayn could bury himself deeper in his ditch of lies, the front door swung open, and the sleigh bells shook against the glass.

"What the fuck," Louis said from the doorway before slapping a hand over his lips. "I thought you were going pink."

Zayn winced at Louis' half-horrified, half-elated stare and avoided Nick's look of fearful confusion altogether.

"Zayn, did you- did you do this yourself?" Louis asked, jogging over to get a closer look. He ruffled up Nick's puke green quiff before beaming up at Zayn. "This is by far your best work."

"What's going on?" Nick interjected, voice soft. Pushing past Louis' wandering hands, he stood up and marched over to the nearest mirror.

Zayn touched his beard with the tips of his fingers. "Oh boy," he muttered, stomach lurching. "Nick, I shouldn't have-"

"Fucking hell?" Nick squawked, fists clutching the green fluff attached to his head. "Pink is out there, but at least it's _cute_. Green is just- why have you done this?" he asked, ripping his gaze from the mirror to glare at Zayn.

"Because he's a bloody genius," Louis answered through a stifled snicker.

Zayn forced a laugh but quickly cancelled it out with a shaking of his head. "Wait wait wait, Louis no. This was a stupid idea and probably one of the most awful things I've done."

Louis blinked, his ear-to-ear grin falling to a confused frown.

"Nick's a decent guy, actually," Zayn continued, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked to the green-haired guy beside him and spared a half-grin. "He was dying his hair for charity for fuck's sake."

His mouth in a tight O, Louis shifted a confused gaze to Nick, whose eyes were still glued to his reflection. “Really?” he said, eyes softening. Zayn bit his lip and looked away, his stare now painting the floor, the walls, anywhere that wasn’t the two men in front of him.

“Yeah, I mean…” Nick touched his cheek with his shoulder. “I tweeted the idea a few weeks back, and it got a big reaction, so I figured it would bring in the most donations.”

Louis twisted his mouth to keep himself from laughing. “I saw that tweet,” he admitted before placing a hand in the curve of his hip. He bit his lip at the floor to avoid Nick’s wide eyes and amused gasp. “I wanted to make it seem like I was surprised, so you didn’t know I followed you on twitter, but…”

Nick popped his hip and placed a fist beneath his chin, grinning smugly at the smaller boy.

“I’m gonna have a smoke,” Zayn chimed in. He snapped his jaw shut, gaze remaining to himself as he spun around and headed for the door.  

Not thinking much of it, Louis spared his friend a small nod and returned his attention to Nick. “So…” he began, shifting his weight onto one leg. “Your hair is green.”

Nick coughed out a laugh as he looked down at his shoes then back up at Louis. “So it is,” he confirmed, peering through his eyelashes. “Your friend has got quite the eye for color,” he chuckled dryly.

Louis snorted. “Yeah, well Zayn can get a little carried away when it comes to defending our honor. One time, we were playing Mario Kart, and Bowser hit me with a bomb right before I crossed the finish line. I was Mario, of course, by the way. And Zayn, who was Luigi, used his last red shell to keep him from finishing before me. Isn’t that-”

“Yeah, Zayn is in love with you.”

Louis froze with his mouth hanging open, the rest of his sentence stuck at the tip of his tongue. “Wait, what?” he croaked, stepping backward and dropping his hands at his sides. He shook his head as if he had just woken up from a three day nap. “Come again?”

Nick sighed, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling and then back down onto Louis. “He didn’t tell me he loved you,” he said, taking a step forward. “But he does. Why else would he hate me?”

“Well…”

Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Louis,” he huffed, grabbing the smaller boy by the shoulders. “He clearly knows you best. He knew I was just an arsehole who just wanted a shag, and he was right.”

Louis looked down at his own pouting lips. “You’re not an arsehole,” he muttered before crossing his arms over his stomach. He breathed in and out through his mouth, slowly and audibly as he looked up at Nick. “You’re just really creepy.”

Nodding, Nick gave an easy “Yup,” and turned to face the mirror once more. “And now my hair matches my slimy interior thanks to your boyfriend.”

Louis hummed consideringly, looking somewhere off in the distance. “Yeah, guess so,” he said, involuntary smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: 50 Cent made most of his money not from rapping, but from an investment in Vitamin Water - He made 10 times more than he ever made rapping.**

**~~~**

Once Nick went home (with a promise for a free appointment for next Thursday), Louis sat down in a client chair with a rough exhale. With no one else in the salon, he took it upon himself to spin himself around with his eyes up at the ceiling. He did this every time he needed to think.

With the backlash of the week’s confusing events churning around in his chest, he paused to look at himself in the mirror. He traced his beard with his finger pads and shook out his long, brown hair. “Messy,” he muttered to himself before springing to his feet.

He used a hand to fling his fringe to the side as he walked toward the door. When he stepped outside, he saw Zayn sitting on a bench, cigarette between his lips and denim-coated legs crossed at the ankles. He finished his drag and removed the fag with a finger and a thumb before blowing the smoke into the empty seat next to him.

“Hey, bad boy,” Louis said, hooking his thumbs into his front pockets as he walked over toward Zayn. “That seat taken?”

With his eyes locked on the sidewalk, Zayn shook his head before taking another drag. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on each knee while Louis sat down next to him.

“So Nick’s trying out the doo for a week, eh?” Louis said through a laugh, nudging Zayn in the shoulder. “How ya think that’s gonna go over?” He turned to Zayn, leaning forward to match his posture, and frowned when his friend remained silent.

“Mm,” was all Zayn answered with, still not looking at Louis.

Impatient, Louis made a noise and snatched the cigarette from Zayn’s fingers, earning a whine from the younger boy. “I just want one drag,” Louis squeaked once Zayn snatched his got a hand around his wrist.

“No,” Zayn objected, finally looking Louis in the eye. He kept his hand around Louis’ wrist as the smaller boy pouted in response. “I told you,” he said. “I don’t want you smoking just ‘cause I do. It’s not good for you,” he explained, taking the fag back from Louis and placing it between his teeth.

Louis gulped, eyes falling to his feet. They were on top of Zayn’s - vans over boots. He took a deep breath before looking back up and grabbing the cigarette from Zayn’s mouth.

“Hey!” Zayn yelled in earnest. He flailed out his hands to fight it from Louis’ grip, but within the next second, Louis had dropped it to the ground and crushed it with his foot. His mouth agape, Zayn stared at his best friend for only a moment before Louis’ hand was on the back of Zayn’s neck, pulling him in to crash their lips together.

Zayn gasped into the kiss, his hands hovering momentarily before falling lazily over Louis’ jeans. One hand cupped the curve of his thigh, while the other trailed up his side, making its way to his neck.

Louis’ hand remained on Zayn’s neck, but his thumb curled around his jaw, swiping back and forth as the kiss grew deeper. He picked up his foot, leaving the squashed cigarette decorating the concrete with ash, and rotated his torso. He breathed out through his nose as he slung his legs over Zayn’s lap, his feet now dangling over the sidewalk.

Zayn thumbed over Louis’ Adam’s apple before moving his hand into the boy’s hair. He tugged gently before breaking the kiss with a wet _smack_.

Louis blinked, chest heaving as he let his hand fall from Zayn’s neck and onto his thigh.

He retracted a hand to grab his phone from his back pocket. After giving Zayn an apologetic smile, he clicked it on and eyed the clock displayed on the lock screen. “Our shift is over,” he said with a small laugh. He clicked it back off and slid it back in his jeans, returning his undivided attention to the boy next to him. “We’re free,” he cheered, hands balled into celebratory fists.

As Zayn joined Louis in excited giggles and timid play-fighting, Greg turned the corner of the block, doggy bag in hand. “Hey, lads,” he said, twisting his mouth to camouflage a smile as he stopped at the salon door. He threw Zayn and Louis a nod, while the other boys looked back with suspicious glares.

“You went to an actual restaurant for your lunch break?” Louis said, eyebrows knitted at Greg’s doggy bag. “By yourself?”

Greg shrugged, lips pursed as he pushed open the door. “I may have had some company,” he sang as he placed one foot through the door. “But then again, I don’t usually like to brag about going out with celebrities.” And then he was inside, and Louis and Zayn were left alone on the bench with their jaws scraping the concrete.

“Holy shit,” Zayn said through an incredulous scoff. He rubbed a hand along the nape of Louis’ neck. “Well that worked out,” he added, easing into a relaxed grin as Louis let his hand fall back onto his thigh.

“Yes it did,” the smaller boy replied, squeezing Zayn’s thigh.  “Hope he can look past the green hair.” They both snickered, letting their heads fall against each other as their bodies shook with laughter.

“Trust me, I think he’s more so distracted by the green in his wallet,” Zayn assured, dropping his hand over Louis’ and lacing their fingers together.

Louis hummed, soft and crackly. “True.”

They stayed like that for a while, the comfortable silenced periodically interrupted by random fits of giggles from playful poking or sarcastic remarks. Zayn would try to light another cigarette, and Louis would snatch his lighter away. “If I can’t, then you can’t,” he would say with a cheesy pout, and Zayn would roll his eyes but obey him anyway, because Louis always won.

Eventually, Zayn offered to walk Louis home, claiming dryly that he should probably learn to be more proper if they were going to be a “thing.” Louis called him gross and kicked him in the shin, telling Zayn he’d just meet up with him later, but the truth was he had a better idea.

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: When mating, the male octopus tears off his arm (the one that’s also a penis), places it in the female, and then swims off to die.**

**~~~**

“It’s not too short, is it?” Louis said, eyebrows furrowed as he looked nervously into the mirror. He carded a hand through his swept back, freshly blow dried quiff as Greg brushed dismembered hair off his shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” Greg answered with narrowed eyes, focusing on some last minute touches. He batted Louis’ hand away in order to tousle the hair himself, getting it into perfect place before applying a hissing dose of hairspray. “The kid’s still got it,” he purred smugly before patting himself on the back.

“I feel like such a knob,” Louis whined at his reflection. “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He’s gonna think I tried way too har-“

“Just go, Louis,” Greg interrupted, clasping each of Louis’ shoulders. “He’s gonna love it.”

Louis groaned as his boss unclipped the black smock from around his neck and tossed it onto the floor.

“But first,” Greg continued, walking over toward the wall and bending over in front of a wooden cabinet. After rummaging for a brief moment, he came back with an electric razor and can of shaving cream.

Louis winced, and Greg snickered.

“It’s time to clean up, Louis.”

**~~~**

**Transitional Fun Fact:**

**@UberFacts: Under extremely high pressure, peanut butter can be turned into diamonds**

**~~~**

**New Text from Louis Tomlinson:** _im coming over in 10!_

The cab driver eyed Louis’ baby blue button up with an impressed hum, to which Louis responded with a twitch of the lips and a bitter scoff. Apparently, his transformation was evident to those he didn’t even know. Either that, or this cab driver was just a fucking creep; both conclusions seemed appropriate.

Once he gave him Zayn’s address, Louis spent the rest of the cab drive twiddling his thumbs and checking his reflection in the front-facing camera of his phone. He rubbed a hand down his bare cheek, caught off guard by the texture even though he’d had hours to get used to it. He knew Zayn would give him shit, but he also knew he might touch his face in the process. He might even kiss it too.

The car came to a stop in front of Zayn’s apartment building, the chipped green door the first thing Louis noticed as usual. He paid the driver, who told him to “have fun” while simultaneously winking and making Louis want to shower for a decade. After exiting the car and tossing the door shut, Louis took a deep breath. And with one more toss of his new hair, he made his way up the concrete steps and through the green door.

Feeling familiar and foreign at the same time, Louis walked through the lobby and straight down the hall of the first floor, where he had walked nearly every day since Zayn moved in. He arrived at the door marked 1DAF, breathed in, breathed out, and knocked.

With a series of clicks, the door swung open, revealing a messy-quiffed, pajama-wearing Zayn Malik leaning up against the door frame. His lips parted slightly once he laid eyes on Louis, drawing attention to his dark mustache and scruffy beard. “Hey,” he said, voice cracking slightly.

Louis chuckled, palming over the back of his neck. “Hi,” he said while shifting his gaze to the floor.

Zayn squinted. “Why are you-”

“I wanted to like… take you out,” Louis interrupted, looking at Zayn again, gaze unwavering this time. He bit his lip and swallowed a big gulp but never looked away. “What do you say?”

He waited, looking at Zayn expectantly for about five seconds before the younger boy burst out into a fit of laughter. “You’re such a knob,” he teased, letting his lower lip curl over as he poked Louis’ smooth cheek. “Look at you.”

Standing still as Zayn grabbed hold of his cheeks with each hand, Louis gave a mock scowl. “I won’t stand for this humiliation,” he said, only making Zayn laugh harder. He shifted his weight onto one leg and held a hand on his hip until Zayn finally stopped. “Have you quite finished?” he said flatly.

Zayn nodded, childlike grin unwavering. Louis eventually smiled back, head tilted slightly as he inched in closer. “So this is for real?” Zayn finally said, inching in himself and wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. “Like… us?”

Louis sighed into the touch, melting into Zayn’s arms before leaning up to press their lips together. He took Zayn’s lower lip between each of his, sucking on it slowly before letting it go. “You’re my best guy, Zayn,” he whispered after breaking away, hands draped over the other boy’s shoulders.

Zayn smiled. And his time, he kissed Louis. He kissed his lips, his cheek, his forehead - all in celebration that maybe he won sometimes too.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow Yelena on twitter @astrolougy and read her work on lindsaylohan. Wish her a happy birthday too (it's actually not for a few weeks but I couldn't wait) even though she secretly doesn't age and will be young forever.
> 
> Please give me feedback at @ctmytown, larryscape.tumblr.com, and ask.fm/larryscape. Leave comments and kudos as well please!
> 
> Stay groovy always. :D


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